


I've got a secret for the mad

by paperowl



Series: Peter's a mess and Tony learns how to do feelings [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Dissociation, Gen, If You Squint - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Self Harm, Iron Dad, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Suicidal Ideation, Unspecified Mental Illness, emotionally distant though so be warned, mentally ill peter parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:34:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22275676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperowl/pseuds/paperowl
Summary: Peter woke up feeling wrong, this was a bad day, he could tell.In which Peter is mentally ill, sits on a roof, and Tony comes to find him. (Emotionally constipated Tony Stark ahead, so this is like all hurt no comfort, proceed at your own risk)
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Peter's a mess and Tony learns how to do feelings [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618996
Comments: 10
Kudos: 155





	I've got a secret for the mad

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Secret For the Mad, by Dodie
> 
> Hey all, this is my first MCU fic, and I'm hoping y'all like it. If anyone has notes on characterization or format, don't be afraid to comment about it. I'm new to people reading my work, and I know I hate reading fics that have strange formatting or characterization, so I aim to please. 
> 
> This is partially based upon my own experience with mental illness, so you could call it a vent fic if you want. I'd say don't read if you'd be triggered by general bad mental health, but I frequently ignore those warnings, so you do you. Hope you enjoy!

Peter knew it was going to be a bad day when he woke up and felt wrong. It was just a little too hard to breathe and the covers were heavier than normal. When he got out of bed every step made him feel like he was floating, and yet moving was more difficult, almost like he was walking through syrup. May was already at work, so Peter had to make his own breakfast, but the mere thought had him turning around and heading back to bed.

He got dressed after laying in bed for some amount of time, not bothering to check the clock. When he finally accepted that he needed to get up and get dressed to go to school, his body didn’t listen quite right to his brain. Every movement was just a little off, it was harder to move, and when he did, he couldn’t completely control what his body did. Choosing and putting on clothes took much longer than normal, in the end, he settled for sweats. He was late for school but his body wouldn’t speed up. He did everything at what felt like a snail’s pace.

After an exhausting trip to school, he couldn’t care less that he’d missed half of his first period. That is until he slipped into class and the teacher said “Oh, Mr. Parker. Glad to see you finally blessed us with your presence.” Peter turned red and settled in a seat at the back of the class to a smattering of snickers. Paying attention in class was a lost cause, he was stuck up in his head. Who knows what for, but to watch his thoughts chase each other around on a loop. He dropped his pencil seven times in English, enough to attract Ned’s attention. When they got out of class and were heading down the hall Ned leaned over with a concerned look on his face.

“Dude, are you good? You dropped your pencil like a million times, is your hand ok?”

He paused for a second and then leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “Did it get shot in a fight?” Peter rolled his eyes, the effort from formulating a response already tiring his brain.

“No Ned, it didn’t get shot. Even I wouldn’t heal that fast.” Ned looked mildly disappointed, though he quickly perked back up.

“Oh, did it get like broken then? That would be so cool!” Peter didn’t bother shushing Ned’s overexcited and rising tone. He just sighed deeply and turned to Ned, “No, I’m just tired. Also, breaking your hand is like the least cool thing, I would know.”

“What up, nerds” MJ barged between them, forcing herself into their conversation. “What were you two whispering about?” She hastily added, "Not that I really care, but I want to be informed on any plots being developed. Just for my safety.”

Both Peter and Ned paused for a second, unsure how to respond. Ned then jumped into recovery mode. “No no no, we were just talking about Peter’s athlete’s foot. It’s like super gross and he doesn’t want anyone to know about it.”

“Dude.” Peter responded, not even having to pretend to be offended. “Really?” Ned shrugged, “Sorry, but she wanted to know.” Peter looked at MJ, who just raised an eyebrow. “I really don’t care, as long as you leave your shoes on around me. Give me athletes foot and you will regret it.”

She barely had the chance to give them her trademarked glare before the bell rang. MJ took off without even a goodbye, going to her class on the other side of the building. Ned and Peter also sped up their pace, albeit less than MJ, and Peter elbowed Ned, hard. “Hey!” He protested. Peter just raised an eyebrow, “Really? That was your cover?”

“Well I didn’t have much time, and you weren’t coming up with anything.”  
“Ok but at this point I think it would be easier just to tell her, at the very least it would be better than all of the things you do to keep her from knowing.” The two of them reached their class just as the teacher started his lecture, so their conversation was cut short. Peter all but collapsed into his seat. He was just so tired. He hadn’t even tried to pretend he was there, it just . . . happened. He wondered if anyone could tell it was all an act and that he was unable to move right, of course, would it matter if they knew?

Peter barely made it through the day at school, and the thought of going on patrol, which was usually exciting and energizing, filled him with a heavy sort of dread that settled in his bones. It wasn’t even a decision, he wasn’t going out today, he couldn’t. He trudged towards home, the bustle of people whirling around him until he started to feel like he was drowning. May knew of his general patrol schedule and would ask questions if he skipped patrol. Right now that attention would be more than he could handle.

He noticed a tall building and decided that climbing up it was a good idea, although he’d left his backpack, which held his suit, at school. He needed air and space, somewhere he wouldn’t be interrupted, and the roof of a skyscraper was as good a place as any. Peter silently slipped into the alley next to the building and searched for a fire escape, it was easy to find one and he quickly shimmied his way up it. Despite his disconnected brain, the climb was relatively easy and he made it to the top without breaking a sweat.

Peter wandered around the top of the building for a while, walking off his nerves and antsy energy. When he was sufficiently tired out, he plopped down on the ledge of the building and scooted himself to the edge to look down. The drop that was normally of no issue to him now seemed to stretch on forever, and endless void that would be so easy to fall into. Peter leaned his back against a convenient post, with one leg hanging in the open air and the other bent against his chest. 

He breathed a sigh of relief and hugged his leg tight. He was alone. Time didn’t apply here, it didn’t matter if he had an assignment due or if it was getting late (was it?), he could finally think with all this space. His head didn’t feel trapped, and he could breathe a little easier. Time moved much too fast and much too slowly all at once, and suddenly evening was upon him. A small twinge in the back of his head made him worry for a millisecond if maybe May was worried, and that he should be guilty for staying out so long without contacting her. But as soon as it surfaced, it was gone. Peter couldn’t care less what Aunt May thought, he still needed to think. This big expanse of space was more important than anything else right now.

It vaguely registered that he wasn’t cold, despite the rapidly declining temperature. Some small part of him cared that he couldn’t feel anything, and he pinched himself, just to make sure, it didn’t feel like anything. He had shrunk to a tiny part in the back of his brain, only communicating in small bits and pieces. As hard as he tried to get out of the tiny space he was stuck in he couldn’t, there was too much nothing in the way. The nothing filled him to the brim, so much it spilled out of his skin and tainted the air surrounding him. It was why he needed so much space, so all the nothing had somewhere to go.

He kept switching between the nothing and himself, retreating inside of his head, before being pulled back out. The sound of repulsors barely touched the nothing and Peter continued staring out at the city, because over the skyline was more space, and the view was nice, the lights twinkling against the evening sky calmed him down. Peter was tired.

“Hey Pete, Peter? Buddy? What’s going on up in that noggin of yours? Should I be worried?” Peter continued looking out at the skyline, ignoring Tony, because the nothing needed space, and Tony took too much of it. Tony continued badgering Peter with questions. Where had he been all night? Why was he on a roof? What was going on? The more time that passed with no response from Peter, the more Tony became desperate. 

“Alright, it’s official, I’m worried.” Tony announced after several minutes, “Let’s get you down kid.” He approached Peter on the ledge and gently lifted him off and onto the ground, leaning his back against it. Tony settled down next to him and kept up a steady stream of words, occasionally glancing at Peter to see if his blank look had changed. Peter continued staring off at nothing, desperately wishing Mr. Stark would just leave. Tony had the opposite in mind and was determined to get something out of Peter.

Tony changed his approach after several minutes of useless chatter and situated himself in front of Peter. He reached out and gently adjusted Peter’s head so they were making eye contact, to which Peter responded by letting his neck go limp and looking at his hands. Tony let his hand drift to Peter’s knee, “Hey kid, I know you can hear me, what’s happening in there?” Peter took a deep, shuddering breath and finally met Tony’s eyes. “Hey, Mr. Stark.” He said, as though he’d just now realized Tony was in front of him.

“Hey kid,” Tony smiled lightly and squeezed his knee, “Glad to see you finally joined me. Wanna tell me what that was all about? Why were you on a roof, do I want to know?”

Peter leaned back against the ledge, looking skyward, and quietly responded, “I needed space.”

“Ok,” Tony continued hesitantly, “Why?”

“To think.”

“Oh,” Tony said simply. He waited to see if Peter would continue and when he didn’t Tony forged on. “Care to tell me why you had to think here? And not somewhere like my lab, or your aunt’s place. Why here?”

“Because nowhere else has space.”

“Care to tell me what qualifies as ‘space’?” Tony asked.

“It has to be big,” Peter paused. “And I need to be able to breathe.”

Tony took a moment to digest Peter’s words, worry beginning to crease his brow. “Why can’t you breathe without space?”

“Because then there’s no air.” Peter said matter-of-factly, as though it was a simple truth of the universe.

Tony sighed, “Peter. Are you ok?”

Peter stared up at the stars with a blank expression. “I think so.”

“Are you sure? Sitting up on a roof for five hours doesn’t exactly scream okay to me.”

“Yeah, I’m ok.” Peter responded absentmindedly. He knew, deep down somewhere that he wasn’t ok, but it couldn’t make its way through the nothingness still filling him up. It didn’t matter anyway, who would care whether he was okay or not?

Tony pinched his brow and gave a sad once over of Peter before unfolding himself from the position he’d been sitting in and stretching a little. He walked back to the Iron Man suit and let it meld around him. “We’re going to the tower,” Tony said, and picked Peter up, Peter didn’t react. Tony took off and they were at the tower in a matter of minutes. Tony disengaged from the suit, sure not to drop Peter, who he realized was freezing. He carried Peter to the couch in the common room and unfolded the blanket draped over the back of the couch, he then used it to cover Peter’s shivering form.

Tony seated himself on the other end of the couch, huddled in a hoodie and sweatpants he’d clearly been wearing in the lab before he went to find Peter. Tony just watched him for several minutes, watched as he fiddled with a corner of the blanket and stared into space. Tony finally worked up the courage to break the silence. “Look kid, feelings aren’t really my thing, you know that. But frankly, I’m scared. What’s going on?” 

Peter sighed, “I told you, I just need space.”

“Gotta say bud, it seemed like more than that.”

“Well it wasn’t, I just need to have space to think, otherwise my brain takes up too much space and it doesn’t work anymore.” Peter didn’t know where the words came from, but he certainly didn’t intend to volunteer information like that.

“Oh ok, why doesn’t your brain work?” Tony asked, and gestured jerkily, “You know, when you’re out of space.”

“It just doesn’t.” Peter shrugged, “There’s too much stuff I guess.”

“Ah.” Tony nodded. “Is there a way you can get rid of the stuff?”

“I think? I mean, most of it leaves when I get space, but some of it always stays.”

“Like what?”

Peter thought a moment. “Time.” He paused, “People. Maybe noise?” He shrugged, “I’m not really sure.”

“Time?” Tony said.

“Yeah, it’s too busy.” Peter clarified.

“Oh.” Tony said, pondering. “Anything else I need to know?”

“Not really.” Peter said, curling up into himself under the blanket. He was shivering, but he didn’t know why.

Tony sighed and got up from the couch. “I’m going to call your aunt now, she needs to know you’re ok. Do you want to stay here tonight or go back home?”

Peter was still focusing on his hands messing with the edge of the blanket. “Here, I guess.”

Tony nodded and pulled out his phone, dialing up May. He wandered to another room with the conversation and Peter slowly got up off the couch and made his way to his room, a blanket cape trailing behind him. He didn’t bother getting under the covers, he just curled up on top and tried to fall asleep. He was so tired his body obliged almost immediately.

He woke up a few hours later. The room felt too small, but the quiet dark lured him out. He padded to the common room and sat on the floor, leaning his shoulder against the couch and staring out at the view of the city. He just sat, letting the dark envelope him. Life didn’t apply at night, not when it was dark, it was nice. Life was busy and bright and loud, nighttime was dark and quiet and calm.

After a time of appreciating the view, Peter turned his attention to his hand, trying to open and close it. It wouldn’t work, and when it did it was jerky and weird. Every part of him felt like it was floating. As it finally hit him how little of his body he could control he started to panic, and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. The lack of sight only heightened his detachment and he snapped them open again. Desperately he scratched his arm, desperate to feel something that would get him back to his body. It took until he drew blood for him to feel the sting. But he felt something, at least he was a little real. At least, for now, he was kind of ok. He could relax. Not much later, (though what was time but a concept?) he felt a presence settle next to him. It was Tony. He whispered, “Hey kid, why are you up?”

“Because I am.” Peter shrugged. “And the dark is nice. It’s quiet, and empty.”

“Ah.” Tony acknowledged. “Well, Friday told me you were in distress. Wanna elaborate?”

Peter just shrugged, “Didn’t realize.” He rested his chin on his hand. Tony gently rubbed Peter’s shoulder and tried to make out Peter’s expression in the dark. “You sure you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Peter said, mildly exasperated. He was the opposite of ok, but no one needed to know that. Tony sighed, sensing Peter’s annoyance, “Ok.” and dramatically yawned. “Well, I’m going back to bed. Are you?”

Peter turned back toward the window, “No, I’m ok here.” 

“Alright then,” Tony shrugged and headed back to bed, not willing to fight. Peter started to drift off on top of the couch, and a few tears slowly slid their way down his face. He was so not ok here, he was so not ok in general. He wished he could be real again, and not whatever floaty mess he was right now.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a little more, and have ideas on how I could make this a series so if that's something you'd want to see, let me know.
> 
> also if somebody wants to be my beta, I'm open.


End file.
